


would you let me?

by keeper0fthestars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Cock Warming, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, SO MUCH FLUFF, Soft Din Djarin, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, Young Din Djarin, din djarin has tattoos, love and affection, possessive din, shameless fluff, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27566683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeper0fthestars/pseuds/keeper0fthestars
Summary: Din has a few tattoos and he doesn't realize how enamoured you are with them :)
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian/Reader
Comments: 21
Kudos: 350





	would you let me?

**Author's Note:**

> Did I intend for this to be a 2k word fic? I promise you, in my head, this was only 600 words. Yea, what can I say, my kink is Din Djarin being safe, stable and happy.
> 
> This story is set after the events of [YWMND](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26436412) but can be read as a stand-alone fic.

His skin tingles where you still touch him.

The sweat has dried but he can’t yet bring himself to move from where he'd collapsed next to you on the pillows a few minutes ago. Sprawled on his stomach, he takes up your side of the bed, the comfortable weight of your leg bent over the back of his thigh. The heat of your mouth and the exquisite grip of your pussy would stay with him for days.

The peaceful glow blanketing the room hangs in contrast to the raging wind outside. The storm arrived unexpectedly before dawn and continues to rattle the windows every so often, a promise that it's far from over. 

Muscles protesting, he bunches the pillow under his arms. His eyes struggle to stay open and he sees you’re doing no better, not a lick of tension left in your body. His shoulders bulging, he rests his head on his forearms, lulled by the sensation of your slow fingers tracing the dark ink over his shoulder blade. 

He wonders what you're thinking about, he wonders if you even realize you’re doing it. Not that he minds. Not that he needed a reason to keep you in bed today. Drowsy and spent, the look on your face tells him you wouldn't be able to recall a single thing you’d carried over from yesterday’s to-do list. He likes days like this when the only thing on your mind is him. Even now, especially now, when all that exists is the delicious scent of you and he’s on the verge of dozing off and it's not even noon. He can't get enough of how fucking beautiful you are after he's fucked you. 

//

The dwindling fire dances in the corner of the room, creating shadows across the dips and valleys of his back. Coals begin to crackle but neither of you seems to notice the chill creeping back in the room. The window could be wide open right now and neither of you would even care.

At the moment, other things occupy your mind. Lazy, your fingers continue over the smooth slope of his shoulder, repeatedly admiring the same path of black ink. 

With a languid exhale, he shifts, turning on his side, ruffling the toasty air under the quilt between you. One arm propped under his head, his other hand slipping underneath the blanket, hugging your hip, he settles heavy and solid beside you. 

Your eyes are drawn to the intricate pattern that spreads across his chest and curls around his biceps and disappears under the blankets. You know the significance of each piece of ink. The one on his shoulder, the one bigger than your palm is your favourite. Ever since he'd gotten it, you found yourself silently longing to do something you’d never thought you’d ever do. But then, you’ve never done anything as reckless as being in love either. 

You've often wondered if he'd like that; to see a similar version of one of his tattoos somewhere on you, to watch him brush his fingers over it, or his mouth. Tender evidence of just how entwined your life with him is. 

The thought of it pulls delightfully inside your stomach.

When you look up, he’s already watching you. 

He sees the flash of eagerness in your eyes before you blink it away, he sees the cautious way you wet your bottom lip as you consider your words. He can see you're itching to say something. 

"If I wanted something like this, would you do it for me?"

His brow flattens, his lips part and you can tell the question catches him off guard. You hear the hitch in the air but you don’t know the half of it. 

You do not know that his throat jams with adrenaline when he opens his mouth to answer you; he barely manages to swallow it down and level his voice enough to speak. He’s powerless to stop the grin that sneaks into the corner of his mouth.

‘Of course, I would.’ 

The kick of overwhelming pride in his veins is instant, a punch to his lungs. You do not know that your request sets off fireworks in his stomach, floods hot up his chest, flushing the roots of his scalp. Something so tangible, so primal he thinks he could reach in and touch it. He thinks if he does, it might lay him to waste. The more he visualizes you this way, the more light-headed he becomes. 

And then you weaken him further. Sweet little apples forming on your cheeks and he gives in. Allows the sensation to shatter him.

His girl, _his girl,_ wants ink that matches his. 

He wants to bask in it, drown himself in it. Arousal licks _hot_ inside his stomach, tightens his cock so fast it makes him dizzy- 

Instead of on your hip, the heat of his hand is now curling around the back of your neck and his forehead collides gently with yours. Warm and solid. He has to close his eyes, focus on you, or the muscles around his heart will squeeze right out of his chest and turn him into a puddle. His cock, painfully heavy between his legs.

Tethering himself against your warm brow, he lingers, focuses on your breath fanning down his cheek. Eventually, he comes back down again. 

You'd said you want _him_ to do it.

You'd be wearing a part of him on your skin. Forever. _Fuck, how he wants it._

His lungs threaten to collapse again.

Gentle fingers squeeze the nape of your neck, spreading warmth down your spine. Nudging your forehead up, you are met with the imploring depths of his eyes carefully fixed on yours, circling your features. You watch his brows pull together, the earnestness on his face tugs at the strings around your heart.

“You would let me?” 

You know exactly what he’s asking. Giving him the power to adorn you, stinging with needles, to hurt you. Trust that he wouldn’t. 

Your hand curves along the scruffy edge of his jaw, reaching further, tangling in his hair. Tipping your face up, your mouth slides between his supple lips and you answer him the only way you can. 

Like his name hasn’t already been written on the inside of your heart since the day you met.

He melts immediately, nose pressing into your cheek, tugging you closer with a soft hungry moan. Stubble grazing, you’re lost inside the slick of his mouth, his tongue sliding, reaching for yours again. His hand trails down the curve of your back, his cock rigid against your softness and heat swoops low in your belly. Much too soon he pulls away and you already feel his burning gaze as you struggle to pull your eyelids open. Bloomed and dark, they burn with adoration so intense it would blot out both suns.

"Where would you want it?" 

The softness in his voice makes your heart flutter. You already see the possibilities flickering in his eyes; _his_ ink decorating you. 

Easing you back on the pillows, you barely get a chance to give his question any thought when you feel the ends of his hair tickling your jaw, his mouth ghosting over your clavicle. 

"Maybe here?" his voice lilts up at the end, satisfied at the goosebumps erupting across your skin.

He doesn't give you time to answer, instead, he grasps your hand, softly brushing his thumb over the tendons on the inside of your wrist. "Or, here."

And then it hits you and your mouth goes dry. “You’ve already thought about this.”

‘Yeah,’ he says softly, bending to slot his lips over your open mouth. ‘I have.’

His admission just about ruins you.

Ugh. this man.

Curiosity ignites inside you, in sync with an eagerness of an entirely different kind. One that charges your pulse, makes your voice weak.

‘Where would _you_ want it?’ 

He's slow with his answer. Even slower gripping the blanket from underneath. Pulling it down, watching the satin edge slide over your skin, watching it slowly catch on your nipples. Bit by bit, exposing the soft fullness of your curves. Doesn't stop pulling until the blanket bunches around your knees. 

You watch his mouth tug into a crooked grin. 

Crowding over your side, he's so long, so broad. Your skin tingles under his appreciative gaze. A warm hand trails up the side of your hip, fingertips counting ribs, so gentle it's almost ticklish. You struggle to breathe around the quivering in your stomach where your heart thuds erratically from one corner of your ribcage to the other. 

Unhurried fingers trace a slow semicircle underneath your breast.

‘I want one here,’ his head dips down, his nose following the swell of soft skin. ‘So I can see it every time I fuck you.’

Your pussy twinges, heat flaring all the way to your nipples. 

_Oh._

Grasping a handful of your breast, he circles his tongue over your nipple and before you can put a single thought together, his large hand moves to your hip, squeezes, then melts into the softest of touches. 

“And I want one down here.”

You catch his gaze, blazing and dark, before his mop of messy dark hair trails down your stomach. 

He licks a hot stripe over the spot he's just identified on the inside of your hip bone, teeth nipping. Your core clenches painfully at the contact and your vision goes hazy. He is pleased with your splintered gasp, but you can think of a few other uses for that smug grin. As though reading your mind, his open mouth finds more bare skin, hot and wet, scraping slower, pushing your legs apart. 

His voice low, possessive, ‘No one but me would ever know about them.’

The thought sends a spectacular sting of arousal around your ass and up your spine. 

Something only for him. _Maker._ He renders you so defenseless so fast your head spins. 

"So, what do you think?" his voice dips lower, his stubble scrapes up the inside of your thigh. "Where should we start?"

You know he just asked you a question but his thumb is toying with the seam of your pussy now and the words have nothing to cling to anymore inside your head. He’s slow about it, pressing just far enough to collect your wetness and push it up around your clit. Painting. Teasing. Dipping further this time only to pull away and bring it to his mouth. Spreading you wider so he can see how flushed and swollen you are and he hasn’t even used his mouth yet. 

“You gonna answer me?” Using his palm to pin your leg open, his mouth sinks into the inside of your thigh, teeth and all and you pull air from the beams of your ceiling.

 _“Tha-s not fair..”_ you plead.

He moans his agreement into the flesh of your other thigh. "We'll finish this conversation after you cum." 

His mouth closes over your clit and your eyes roll back in your head. He doesn’t let up.

“Din-,” you gasp.

He pulls off your swollen clit and sucks the taste off his lips, watching you clench for him at the loss of contact. 

“Yeah?” 

You’re so fucking wet for him that his cock throbs, leaking between his stomach and the sheets. Bending his index finger he drags the side of his knuckle over your clit, pushing deep until he snags your entrance, holding you there. You’re already fluttering around him, so eager. With every clench, more slick leaks between his fingers. Your ragged breathing turns into the most devastating whimpers every time he laps at your clit. His other hand pries your fist from the sheet beside you, curls his fingers through yours and holds tight. Collects wetness on his tongue and leaves it on your clit again.

“You wanna cum on my mouth... or my cock.”

 _“Yes…”_ you plead, chest heaving, not sure if he even hears you.

He doesn’t know what you’re moaning _‘yes’_ to but he doesn’t care because your pussy is too fucking tempting to stop now. Two fingers buried to the knuckle, they twist and curl and he has to hold your hips from seizing and climbing off the bed when you cry out and come apart at the seams. 

He moans too, mouth buried in your pussy, working you through it until your grip on his hair loosens and your thighs finally lay limp around his shoulders. His mouth becomes patient, gently cleaning you up until you’re too sensitive to take anymore.

He crawls up to your mouth, forearms crowding you on either side, settling his weight between your legs. Your hands tug through his hair and he moans again, taking his time inside your mouth, sloppy and breathless.

Blissed out and shaky, you let him carefully nudge you over on your side. Bringing the blanket over your bodies, he climbs up behind you like a solid wall of warmth. 

Soft gentle kisses to your shoulder, his hand plays firm on your belly; he needs to be as close as possible, needs to fit himself between your legs, perfectly content to just keep himself there for the rest of the day if that’s all you wanted. 

He knows it’s not. 

Still keyed-up from your orgasm, the heavy length of his cock slides exquisitely through your folds, the wide ridges catching perfectly on your tender clit. He throbs _hot_ and your eyes cloud over with a need so intense, so sharp, it would take no effort at all to angle your hips and ease every inch of him into you. Your fingertips reach down, smearing your fingers over the blunt head of his cock and he twitches for you, leaking and hot, a broken groan shuddering within his chest behind you. The ache goes straight to your pussy.

His mouth gone dry, his hand like steel on your hip now. He holds delightfully still, right over your clit as you stroke him from underneath and he feels you clench, more heat spilling out around his cock. 

“Does my girl want more?” His hand dips below the swell of your ass, he squeezes into your flesh, pulling you apart, making more room for himself, fixed on supplying you another heavenly inch of contact. You oblige and squeeze the muscles between your legs, giving him more friction and he keens for you, whimpering, _‘fuck’_ He sees you bring your slippery fingers into your mouth, and he has to force his eyes shut and reign himself in, dazed at how close he is to that sweet blinding edge of oblivion. You clench desperately again and he knows it’s because you’re gathering more slick from his weeping cock and swallowing it down.

Pressing your ass into the base of his hips you arch your back, sliding him once more through the same path. The desperate sound he makes against the back of your neck makes you throb. 

He hums wet kisses into your neck bringing three fingers soaked from his mouth to your nipple, rolling them over the hardened peaks. You shudder for him and grind harder into his lap, legs trembling. “What do you need, sweet girl?” 

Your only answer is a low whine. “I need you in me.” 

Grasping your knee from behind, he lifts your leg just enough to wedge his hips properly _‘...like this, you want me just like this’_ ...and it’s effortless. He drags through your whimpers, through the haze of his own blurry desperation, burying himself all into your slick heat all at once. When he reaches the hilt, you gasp high and tight, the stretch fucking divine. 

He groans a string of filthy curses, low and needy and breathless through gritted teeth, _‘this what you want, just like this.’_ A delicious ache burning deep in his stomach, he stills, waiting for you to breathe again. _‘...good girl, y-es,’_ he hushes against your neck, _‘...relax for me.’_ There is no more room for him to move but slowly, somehow, he still manages to rock into you, continues to gush praise into your hair, easing your leg down on his, _‘so fucking good for me,’_ keeping you anchored, close and unmoving.

Your grip on his cock is intoxicating, nearly unbearable. Buried deep in you is the only place he feels truly weightless. 

It’s a heady thing, the way you claim him, the way you light up when he walks in the door, how much you trust him, care for him. It takes his breath away. Erases every fear he’s ever had and every worry yet to come. 

Snug in your bed like this, forever is a real thing. 

//

Shielding you from the cold room, you’re both on the edge of sleep again when it occurs to him and he smiles. “You never answered my question, sweetheart.” 

You inhale with a soft contented sound, burying deeper underneath his arm.

“On my wrist.” Your drowsy slurred voice makes his heart swoon. 

“I want everyone that sees it, to know who I belong to.”

His arm tightens around your waist.

//

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I was super nervous to post this and i'd love to know what you think!


End file.
